Sometimes I wonder

Sometimes I wonder,
What it would be like to be a boy.
And not because of the whole peeing while standing up thing,
Or the fact that I wouldn't need to get up an hour earlier
To straighten my hair
And paint my face on.
But mostly, I wonder at night.
I can't imagine what it would be like,
To be walking alone across campus, heading to a friend's house,
At 9:30 in the dark,
And not be nervous.
Not be clutching my bag,
Quickening my step,
Eyeing who is walking next to me.
To not count my drinks once I get to my friend's,
To not be embarrassed when I ask for a guy I trust to walk me home,
So I'm not alone past midnight.
It seems crazy to me.
To just walk and wander and not worry,
About who may be following you,
If your purse looks appealing to a thief,
If your shorts will draw the wrong kind of attention this time of day.

It must be nice.

French Feminist Poetry?

Remember that French poem that I posted last week? I performed it at my class's event this past Thursday night and Jenna kindly took some video so that we could share it with all of you as well!

By Nicole

To the man I may one day love

To the man I may one day love,

            Please be patient with me. When I push you away, when I reinforce my old walls, when I doubt your intentions, be kind. I know it’s a lot to ask. I know I don’t make things easy. But it isn’t entirely my fault. I was not born with trust issues.

            At age ten, I was molested by a classmate at school. At the time, it made me cry and I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t understand what had happened to me and I tried to forget all about it. My best friend, however, understood and she told my teacher who called me a liar. Said I was desperate for attention. The memory has been pushed so far to the back of my mind that I don’t even remember all the details. But I can recall the anger, the fear, hiding out in a school bathroom for twenty minutes afterward. And his name. One I won’t forget.

            Six years later, my boyfriend’s best friend took a liking to me. He would incessantly text me, always needed to know my whereabouts, and got irrationally angry when I didn’t invite him to hang out. When I broke up with my boyfriend, I lost a sense of protection. This boy persisted and I told my friends I was uncomfortable. I avoided the school bus that he also rode on and contemplated blocking his number. My girl friends said I was being ridiculous – they would kill for a guy to like them this much. He was just being nice. But even though it’d been some time, I still recognized the sinking feeling in my stomach that made my intestines coil up against each other.

            I trust my instincts now. I assume the worst while outside at night. I trained my body to be able to defend itself. Allowing a man to touch my body is a bigger deal to me than he’ll ever understand. Fully trusting a man is a challenge I have yet to achieve.

            And I apologize for that. I’d like to think I’m worth the wait, worth the extra effort, but I also get you may not want the broken girl who has nightmares from elementary school. But I hope to love you one day, and to trust you, and to touch you like none of this ever happened.

                                                                                                        Sincerely,

                                                                                                              Still Frightened 


The creator of this piece has requested to remain anonymous.

C'est pour elles que je marche

J’habite dans un monde

Dans lequel être fille

N’est pas toujours une chose simple.

Et j’ai le cœur brisé quand je pense

Que ma petite sœur, mes petites cousines,

Mes amies, et oui, un jour, mes filles

Auront besoin de s’occuper de leur sexe

Tous les jours de leurs vies.

J’espère que mes petites cousines

N’entendront jamais

Qu’elles ne peuvent pas faire quelque chose

Parce qu’elles sont des filles

Dans la salle de classe ou sur le terrain

Ou au bureau.

J’espère que mes amies seront traitées

Avec respect si elles disent

Qu’elles ont été agressées

Et que personne ne demandera jamais

« Qu’est-ce que tu portais ? »

J’espère que ma petite sœur

N’entendra jamais les insultes

Comme « putain » ou « chienne»

Pour ses choix amoureux ou

Parce qu’elle aime donner les ordres.

C’est pour ces filles que j’adore

Que je continue de lutter.

C’est pour elles que je marche

Vers un meilleur demain.

Je leur dis :

Je vous aime !!! Oh !

Je le dis avec les pavés.

Je suis féministe parce que

Les filles que j’aime  

Méritent le respect du monde.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I live in a world

In which being a girl

Isn’t a simple thing.

And my heart breaks when I think

That my little sister, my young cousins,

My friends, and yes, one day my daughters

Will be concerned with their sex

Every day of their lives.

I hope that my baby cousins

Never hear

That they can’t do something

Because they’re girls

In the classroom or on the field

Or in the office.

I hope that my friends are treated

With respect if they say

They have been harassed

And that no one ever asks

“What were you wearing?”

I hope that my little sister

Never hears insults

Like “whore” or “bitch”

For her choices in her love life or

Because she’s a bit bossy.

It’s for these girls that I love

That I continue to fight.

I march for them

Towards a better tomorrow.

I say to them:

I love you!!! Oh!

I say it with bricks.

I am a feminist because

The girls that I love

Deserve the respect of the whole world.

By Nicole 

This is a poem that I wrote (and will be performing) for a French class about the protests that occurred in May of 1968 in France and the issues that they fought for that are still relevant today.